Damien didn't know what it was about the young girl that fascinated him so very much. But as he stared down at her prone form, all he could feel was a possessive contentment, that she was his and no one else's.
He didn't know what he'd expected when he showed her his fangs, but he certainly didn't expect her to collapse into to him like she had. He had barely managed to catch her in his surprise.
Now she was lying next to him on his bed, face scrunched, as though whatever she dreamed was upsetting her. Damien forced his eyes to remain fixedly away from the slender curve of her neck and shoulder. He and Elena had been distracted from their hunt by Christine's cries, and he was growing more hungry by the minute. It didn't help that the girl beside him was one of the most mouth-watering humans he'd ever smelled.
His eyes flicked downwards over her clavicle and the curves of her breasts, all deliciously exposed by her sleep-twisted shirt. His eyes glued to her pulse as he unconsciously leaned forward. She wouldn't mind, would she? Who was he kidding? She would hate him. With a pained sigh, he went to pull back, only for her eyes to snap open, inches below his own.
Leaning back, he mentally prepared himself for the return of the tears and pleading, which was all the girl seemed able to do around him.
*SLAP* Damien flinched back from the sudden pain in his cheek, only for the slap to be followed by a surprisingly powerful impact of her fist against his face. He raised his arm to block another attempt, but she was already off the bed and across the room, bolting for the safety of the en suite bathroom. She slammed the door and locked it before he could stop her.
Shocked and pissed, he stalked over to the mirror, examining his face. His eyes narrowed at the sight of blood dripping down his cheek. God, she packs one hell of a punch! Fortunately, the pain was fading, and the cut was already invisible. It was moments like these when he was particularly grateful for the healing abilities of his kind. Elena would never let him live it down if they found out he'd been caught off guard by a little human girl.
He wiped the blood off his cheek, heading for the bathroom door. He was done letting her work through her issues on her own.
"Open the door Christine!" He tried to moderate his voice, not sure if he was succeeding. He waited a moment, but heard no response. His eyes narrowed in annoyance. He knew she had heard him: her heart's frantic increase at the sound of his order was easily loud enough for him to hear. He grit his teeth. What had started off as cute was quickly growing old. His patience waning, he slammed his fist against the door a few times.
"Christine! Open the FUCKING door!!"
He could hear her choking out sobs, and he imagined her curled in a corner. He hesitated for a moment. What the fuck Damien? Since when did you care about the wellbeing of young women? Especially after being socked in the eye! He shoved the pity down deep.
"Christine!" He gave a warning growl. "You have NO idea how pissed I will be if I have to open the door myself!"
Gritting his teeth in frustration and anger, he waited for her response. He took a breath, and counted down from ten in his head, getting more and more furious. 3...2...1... Well, she asked for it. He slammed his foot against the offending barrier, and with a splintering of wood the door was sent crashing against the wall.
Christine screamed, and tried to run past him. He grabbed her around the waist and shoved her hard against the wall. She tried to knee him, but Damien stepped between her legs, anticipating her attack. He clenched her wrists in one of his hands, and yanked them above her head.
